


Fragments of Serenity

by leet911



Category: Noir (Anime)
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-25
Updated: 2004-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22168945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leet911/pseuds/leet911
Summary: The past is always there. We can't truly have the life either of us wants. We can only have small slices of it, when the world permits.
Relationships: Mireille Bouquet/Yumura Kirika
Kudos: 3





	Fragments of Serenity

* * *

Kirika woke to the screech of seagulls and the smell of the ocean. She opened her eyes to find gentle sunlight raking through the large windows overlooking the beach. Beside her, Mireille slept soundly, the early morning light cradling her features. For a few moments, the Japanese girl lay still and closed her eyes once more, but sleep eluded her. Even the quiet breathing next to her only added to her awareness.

With her eyes closed, Kirika could make out the sound of waves as they lapped at the sand, the rustle of the curtains as the breeze pushed past them. In the distance, a bird squawked, and the rhythmic flap-flap of wings drifted to her ears. Dawn had just broken, but the world was alive with sounds already.

Smoothly, Kirika slid out of bed, wincing at the tightness in her side. She stretched with a grimace, the knot of scar tissue in her belly pulling at her muscles. Even though she was healed, it would be some time before she felt normal again. Unconsciously, her fingers slipped underneath her shirt and traced their way over what had once been a gunshot wound.

A quick glance showed that Mireille was still strewn across the bed, unaware that her partner had risen. She was obviously tired. After all, the blonde was the one who had driven all the way out here. Kirika's eyes fell to the foot of the bed, where their luggage had been haphazardly dumped upon arriving late last night.

She reached for the shoes lying nearby, and slipped quietly out of the room.

The morning breeze carried the smell of salt with it. The air was humid, but surprisingly refreshing.

For a long time, Kirika stood at the backdoor of the beach house and stared out over the expanse of sand and water. Just above the waves, the yellow globe of the sun was beginning its glorious journey across the sky. Soft rays of light danced over the water, scattering into hypnotic patterns. Birds soared in the great blue depths overhead, circling as they searched for breakfast.

Kirika released her breath without realizing she had been holding it. It wasn't the first time she had been to the beach, but never had the sight evoked such a feeling of freedom within her. She looked down at the shoes in her hand, and then back out over the water, before deciding to leave them by the door. Like a young schoolgirl, she skipped out towards the water.

The sand flowed around her feet, insinuating itself between her toes. Lazily, she kicked at the miniature dunes, destroying them and creating more in their wake. The sand was warm and fine, but not quite wet enough for the sandcastle she suddenly wanted to build. Far from the water, the sand was dry, and ran smoothly across her skin. Curling her toes, she could feel each individual grain slipping by.

She moved errantly back and forth, zigzagging across the beach, although she drifted closer and closer to the water. Eventually, she broke into a full out run, skirting the waves of the morning tide. The sand was damp now, near the surf, and it clung to her legs, dragging her back. She ignored it, along with the tugs coming from her previous injury.

She ran for many minutes, and when she did stop, it was only because she tripped on a particularly stubborn clot of sand. Instead of getting back up though, she stayed on her knees and began gathering sand around herself.

Work was slow, with only her hands to shape her creation, but Kirika persevered. Gradually, she built a sloping wall with uneven battlements around a somewhat crooked tower. She even dug a moat around the wall and filled it with water, watching with dismay as the extra moisture weakened her structure.

"It's nice. Too bad the tide's coming in."

Kirika turned towards the familiar her voice, noting the sandals and long legs as her eyes scanned upwards. A smile lit her features as Mireille reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Good morning." The Japanese girl whispered.

"How about some breakfast?"

Kirika nodded, linking her arm effortlessly with the blonde's as they headed off away from the water.

After a luxurious breakfast on the terrasse, Mireille sipped at the mug the waiter had been so kind as to refill. "What do you want to do today? Go for a swim?" She swirled her tea with her spoon for a few seconds, looking up when it seemed no response was forthcoming.

Kirika's head was angled downwards, as if studying something on the table, but here eyes were fixed on something beyond Mireille's shoulders. "There's a man across the street, newspaper, sunglasses. This is the fourth time he's passed by."

The blonde straightened, retrieving her handbag. "I see him. Let's go, shall we?" She took out her wallet and left a bill behind, then added another as she saw Kirika palm a knife off the table.

They both kept farther apart than usual as they left the restaurant, Mireille with her hand in her purse the entire time. As they crossed the street, the man in question began walking faster, and a dark-coloured car with tinted windows rounded the corner.

"Soldats," Mireille whispered, "I recognize the car. Try not to kill the man."

Kirika did not respond, only moved ahead faster, until she was right behind the man and in step with him. She could almost smell the waves of fear rolling off him. He was quite aware of who he had been spying on. A slash from the knife split the back of the man's loose shirt, and Kirika was quick to relieve him of the gun tucked into his waistband.

By this time, Mireille was next to her, her own gun drawn and pointed at the open back window of the car which had just pulled alongside.

"Monsieur Graipaul." She said matter-of-factly, not in the least surprised.

The aging man gave a tight smile, showing how uncomfortable he was with the weapon in his face. "I'm glad you are not rash. The man is a scout, not an assassin."

"I asked not to be followed."

"It's been a long time. I need an answer." It was amazing how quickly the man reverted to the consummate businessman.

"No. That's still my answer. And I have no need of any further proposals." Mireille tightened her grip on the gun.

"You know too much."

"As do you. We can both make exceptions."

Graipaul considered her for a moment, stroking his chin in thought. "Very well. I will trust you on this for now."

Mireille straightened out her clothes as the car sped off, with Graipaul's "scout" safely in the passenger seat. Kirika had even returned his weapon, minus the ammunition, although nothing could be done about his shirt.

Confident that there were no more unwanted watchers nearby, the two assassins brushed themselves off and started the trek back towards their rented beach house.

The trip was made in customary silence, although they did not walk as close as usual, and Mireille tensed every time a car approached from behind. Kirika, on the other hand, moved in the same deceptively rhythmic fashion as always.

They made it to the beach without incident, and the blonde motioned at Kirika to remain alert even as she unlocked the door. A quick search of the house revealed no hidden assailants however, and it wasn't until then that Mireille let out the breath she had been holding and collapsed on the bed.

Her blood pulsed furiously in her head, hammering against her skull. Now that her fears had proved unfounded, she felt shocked at how nervous she'd been.

Kirika stepped over to her partner, noting that the blue eyes did not open even as she sat next to the blonde. Mireille lay splayed out on her back, her arms out on either side. Still, there was no response even as Kirika ran her fingers down the length of one bare arm. Sighing, she gently uncurled Mireille's limp fingers and took the gun from the blonde, silently replacing it in her purse.

The dark-haired girl sat perfectly still for many minutes, watching her partner breathe. Then, without a word, she curled up next to the blonde, relieved when the powerful arms encircled her.

They did not sleep, basking in each other's warmth instead.

Mireille's eyes remained closed throughout, though she was painfully aware of the head on her shoulder, of the hair tickling her neck, of the arm draped protectively across her torso. She lost track of time, concentrating instead on the comforting weight against her.

"Will we ever be safe, Mireille?"

The question surprised her. And she desperately wanted to say yes, but she couldn't find it in herself to lie. Instead, she smoothed a hand though her partner's soft hair. "I don't know."

"I feel safe, Mireille. With you." It was spoken quietly, sincerely, not as a reassurance, but as a statement of fact.

Her eyes opened at that moment, meeting bottomless rust-red depths. She blinked back tears at the sight of the warm caring eyes of her partner. Peripherally, she was aware that the half of the afternoon had somehow slipped away, but the young girl in front of her was much more of an immediate concern. She tightened her hold, wanting to say something, but finding her voice caught in her throat. She touched foreheads with Kirika, feeling the tears slip out despite her iron will.

"Can we go swimming?"

At that moment, Mireille would not have refused her anything.

Kirika eyed her reflection critically, running her fingers over the knot of scar tissue in her side. The pale green bikini was a perfect fit, if a bit more risqué than she usually dressed. Still, she didn't mind that. It was just that, to her practiced eyes, the scar seemed so jarringly obvious. She studied it for a few more seconds, stretching and twisting her body as though it would somehow conceal the mark.

"You don't have to wear it if you don't like it."

Kirika's eyes jumped to the crystal blue orbs above her reflection's shoulder. Although Mireille's comment was offhand, her face betrayed her.

"I do like it. But..." Delicate fingers danced over the scar once more.

The blonde placed her arms around Kirika's body, covering the thin hands with her own. Purposely, she positioned her elbows so that Kirika's belly was hidden from view. "I think you're beautiful."

The dark-haired girl smiled briefly at the mirror, aware that Mireille had caught the little flicker at the corners of her mouth. Her cheeks reddened, a fact that only made the blonde squeeze tighter. They locked gazes in the mirror, and Kirika became pointedly aware that her partner was also clad only in a bikini.

"Let's go swimming," the blonde whispered, and Kirika could only nod her agreement.

The sunset framed the beach perfectly, soft rays glinting off the sea water and scattering in the light sands. Kirika sat in the shallow surf, the waves lapping at her thighs. Mireille was visible a short distance away, a shock of blonde hair sticking out of the water. However, all it took was a quick wave from the Japanese girl to bring her back towards the shore.

"Watch the sunset with me?"

Mireille settled happily next to her partner, draping an arm around the younger girl's neck as Kirika leaned against her. For a long while, they were alone, with only their quiet breathing and the sounds of the ocean. Together, they sat in companionable silence until the sun dipped below the water and the stars poked through the heavens. Then, with the waves chasing their heels, they retreated into the small beach house where mugs of tea and warm blankets awaited them.

* * *


End file.
